


Empty Scars

by SARUUU



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of Fluff, M/M, military au!, porn maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SARUUU/pseuds/SARUUU
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Military AU! of Sarumi.</p>
<p>From best friends, to enemies.<br/>Once hurt, a scar grows.<br/>Once heal, the scar still exists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Sarumi is always filled with lots of angst. Also I like to describe feelings in a ... different way I guess. When you read my fanfic it feels like picking up puzzles. I don't usually upload a big chapter as I like to finish a chapter in one go, usually it's around a 1k-2k words update. Please expect numerous of chapters.
> 
> Thank you for reading this.

**Chapter Zero**

 

_I can’t tell if the warmth on my palm, is my blood, or your tears._

 

* * *

 

 

He would never forget the moment the world shined in front of him, but the darkness filled his left side. He could feel the hand holding his left hand was shaking. The smell of hospital disinfectant was awful, it was like sharp pins in his lung.

 

“Don’t move.” Misaki heard a voice from his left side, “I will come to you.”

 

Saruhiko adjusted his glasses and woke up by a numb sore feeling on his cheek, followed by a usual tongue clicking sound. That’s why I hate this pair, he thought, neglecting the fact that he napped with his glasses on. He moved his chair to the right side of the bed, and grabbed Misaki’s hand gently.

 

“What’s with that dark circle Saru?” Misaki stared into Saruhiko’s eyes like an eagle, never missed a tiny difference on Saruhiko’s face. “Shut it, idiot. I was born with them.” Saruhiko turned his face to the side, looked at himself in the mirror.

 

Misaki knew what happened. “Saru, I…” he hesitated. How many days did he sleep through? Is everyone okay? Was the mission completed? There were so many things going through his brain, and obviously the analgesics were not helping at all.

 

“5 days Misaki. Of course you have nothing but luck,” Saruhiko whispered, so quiet Misaki barely caught the words, “Of hell.” Saruhiko adjusted Misaki’s bed angle, so carefully that every single move was as light as a feather. He passed Misaki a glass of water, “Have some, I am calling the doctor.”

 

Saruhiko turned away, but a light force on his sleeve stopped his movement. Misaki’s fingers were holding onto the corner of his shirt, “Don’t touch, there is blood…”

 

“We are always bathed in blood, we are soldiers, remember? So screw that.” Misaki tightened his grip, “I don’t need another dose to put me to sleep yet.”

 

Saruhiko gave out a silent sigh. He did not know if it represented a relief, or grief. This breath of sigh was being held in his lung for too long, for a good five day wait. His body was sore, pretty sure his body stunk as well. Five days of waiting, five days of search, five days of feeling like a burning ant, five days of helpless hell. “Misaki, I am getting the doctor, so let go.”

 

“Fuck the doctor, no.”

 

A sudden force was pushed into Misaki’s throat, and he felt the weight onto his body. The drip tubings were torn off abruptly and the floor was stained by little droplets of blood from his vein. The bright red was dripping along Misaki’s fingers, landed on the tiles. It was too bright to make Saruhiko’s eye narrowed. He could feel Misaki’s heartbeat through his hand. A sign of living Misaki, not some stupid figures on the machine along with annoying beep sounds. He could feel the blood flow.

 

_It was the only thing he longed for._

 

Saruhiko looked up. Everything he was so familiar to. The messy red hair he woke up to every morning, the tanned skin he touched every night before sleep, the hazelnut eyes he lost his soul into every time Misaki looked at him…

 

Those _eyes_ , he used to be addicted to. Now he hated _it_ so much.

 

“Saruhiko,” Ignored the blood dripping hand, Misaki gently touched Saruhiko’s cheek, “Your fringe is getting a bit too long, y’know? I can’t see your eyes, that’s a bit rude.” Misaki smiled, despite the fact that Saruhiko tightened his hand on his throat, “So would you mind…” He moved his fingers towards Saruhiko’s left eye, intended to pin up his long fringe.

 

“Don’t you dare…” Saruhiko turned his face again, leaving a trail of blood on his cheek.

 

“I do,” Misaki looked straight into Saruhiko’s face, his face was never in healthy colour. His pale skin never impressed Misaki, “Saruhiko, y’know…”

 

The force was stronger. Misaki started to feel the airflow was narrowed. He heard the nurse alarm was pressed and rang, and that was when he fought back. He curled up his legs and tried to escape while kicking Saruhiko with his knees. Soon he heard the sound of the nursing trolley and of course glass bottles juggling.

 

“Patient Yata Misaki was awake from his trauma, then was in shocked and showed sign of agitation,” Saruhiko said calmly to the nurse, “Please administer a dose of relaxant injection.”

 

The nurse quickly found Misaki’s vein depot, and Misaki felt the liquid rushing into his blood vessels. His body was twitching with absolute rejection. “I hate you…” Misaki tried his best to keep his eyelid open, “but I lo-“

 

“Bye,” the sedation knocked in, and the world began to sink, “Look for me on your left side.”

 

The last thing Misaki could remember before complete darkness invaded, was a gentle press on his lips mixed with a salty taste.

 

_A taste of despair._


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16 y.o. liars.

**Chapter One**

 

_I covered your eye, and covered your scar;  
You ripped out my heart, and ripped open my scar._

 

* * *

 

 

 

The drop of sweat slide from his forehead down to his eyepatch. The dawn was lit with a light blue tint, adding peace to this world. Morning air rushed into Misaki’s body and he felt cleansed. Misaki always had his run in early morning; starting at around 3am, till 5am, before the privates start their morning session. Even it had been three weeks after _that_ happened, rumour was still floating around this place like a haunted tale.

 

The stitches on the wound was taken out. The medical team was surprised at his healing speed. Misaki only knew the only thing he could do was to heal up quick, be able to be back onto the battlefield alongside with his Captain, Suoh Mikoto, and his trusted buddies of team Homra.

 

_There is no time to grief_ , he said to himself, after the 20th time of getting knocked down by Kamamoto in the training gym. He understood his weakness due to his blindness. He could only rely on his right eye now. The world was divided in half, and one side was crumbled into pieces, like glass shattered on the floor. It was beautiful, but brutal when he tried to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

 

He saw Saruhiko once, after he was discharged from the hospital. Misaki branded that face into his brain when Saruhiko stood in front of all teams, sergeants and lower ranked soldiers bowing to him, even chief officers, like Misaki. Saruhiko became the Second Lieutenant of Scepter 4, and no one seemed to be surprised about that.

 

He could hear the female officers talking about Saruhiko, how brilliant he was to be the youngest Lieutenant in the army at the age of 16. This did not bother Misaki at all, he knew Saruhiko had the ability to do so. He did not bother at all.

 

_Liar._

 

It’s totally fine, Misaki said, everyone has their goals right? Didn’t realized that it was the fifth dint he left on the wall, Misaki continued running. 4:30am, last lap and he should get prepared for the morning training session and gun shooting practice.

 

“Geez, the scar is stinging again. Wonder if Kusanagi-san has got me some pain killers in the office… Must thank him for delivering my meds next time.” Roughly adjusted his eyepatch, Misaki continued his run towards the sun.

 

As he ran straight pass that lonely dimming light from the Scepter 4 dorm on his left side, which lit up at 3am, every single day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Misaki was asleep, because of the side effect of that dose just then. Saruhiko wiped the warm droplets on Misaki’s cheek for the last time. So slow, so soft, like he was handling a fragile porcelain doll. Saruhiko tried to remember this moment, burying it deep into his heart, locked. He gently massaged the bruised marks on Misaki’s neck, like how he always do with his kiss marks. Misaki would complain about his kiss marks, making him having to get his collar button done properly, and that shiny but suffocating red tie.

 

_If I can’t mark you with my sincere, the bruises will do._

 

He looked at the mess he made in these five days. Leather pieces on the bedside table. Punching tools, needles, threads, and a note slipped into the eyepatch, between the thick leather layers. Saruhiko was never a crafty person. His fingers were trained to kill, not to build. He did not even know if Misaki wants an eyepatch. Yet he made it, similar to the one of Misaki’s favourite manga character. This was the only thing to distract his mind from the beeping signals of the monitor machines, or the fear of the sound flatten out would drown him in any second.

 

It was five days of hell. Saruhiko had never felt this hopeless before. He had the bullet in the jar, which went through Misaki’s left eye. Saruhiko was never a prayer, but he prayed for the first time in life. Anything but Misaki he could lose. He hated this mindset so much, even Misaki obviously was not weighing him the same like he used to anymore. Everything about him was so bright; Hazel, orange, amber, red.

 

He’d rather lose Misaki in his hands, than in the red.

 

He excused himself to the nurse, who was busy settling Misaki down. Good, someone would look after him. “Chief Fushimi, is there anything you would like us to do before you leave?” The nurse asked. This was the first time she was allowed to enter Chief Yata’s room, as the order “Do not disturb” was granted from both Homra, and strangely, Scepter 4. Homra and Scepter 4 were always on the borderline of break out, and everyone knew about it. Rarely these two teams would be on the frontline together, as Scepter 4 was more like an intelligence agent and Homra was marksman gang.

 

“Mi- Yata hates bitter medicines, and big tablets. It would be good if the pharmacists could formulate some pain killers in smaller size, and sugar coated. They could send the bill to me, to the Scepter 4 headquarters.” Saruhiko inhaled deeply, like he was rescued from drowning. He could feel the pain on his left chest, under his rib cage. “That’s all.”

 

The red army badge was fallen from his right arm, like an old rug. The Homra pride was fallen, and the icy blue badge was pinned onto his left arm, as cold as his dark blue eyes. He walked down to the entrance of the hospital, where the special squad of Scepter 4 lined up with their swords out under blossoming Sakura trees.

 

“Salute to our new Second Lieutenant Fushimi, soldiers of Scepter 4 awaiting for your command.”

 

He looked Munakata, standing in front of him with a long sword in his hands. Saruhiko kneeled down to his new Captain of Scepter 4. The spring breeze was calm, and the flower pedals were like falling snow, landed on his shoulders. Saruhiko could feel the weight of his sword, from left to right, and ended on the top. The weight of responsibility, the weight of sacrifice; the weight of his love, the weight of his hatred. It was nothing near similar to the weight on his shoulder he woke up with every morning. The ice-cold steel was different from the warmth he leaned on every night.

 

Saruhiko could feel the blue aura was fulfilling his body, invading every single cells. Munakata slowly lifted his hands, with a satisfied smile on his face.

 

“Welcome to Scepter 4,” Captain Munakata handed the long sword to Saruhiko carefully, “The infamous hidden weapon user Fushimi.”

 

Saruhiko stared at his new sword, then carried it around his waist. Unlike the daggers which seemed to live beneath his skin, the sword reminded him its existence every single seconds from now. The silence was filled in the surroundings. He couldn’t care less to some formal greetings. The only thing he cared about, he had destroyed it earlier.

_This is the power I’ve been longing for. Anything except Red._ The fingernails dug deep into his palm, cutting the thin skin into the flesh. _The vow, the pride, the trust. Nothing but self can be trusted._ He scanned through the members of the special squad.

_And I will get used to this, easily._

Saruhiko took a step forward into the middle of the special squad, and he saw the 14 y.o. self in front of him, darting a dagger into his bleeding heart.

 

He said,

 

_Liar._


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The loyal traitor.

**Chapter 2**

_Sometimes you’re a nightmare, eating my soul away_

_Sometimes you’re a daydream, consuming my fantasies_

 

* * *

 

 

Closing up the diary, Saruhiko looked out the window of his dorm’s room. It was 4am in the morning and he had been awake for an hour. His long black was getting a bit warm, not too cold for the chilly morning. Saruhiko was never a deep sleeper, as his biological clock was quite messed up with his fluctuating melatonin level. He left a gap with the slightly opened window to let the breeze to freshen up his room. The leftover of his nightmare suffocated him somehow.

_Should have been used to it by now, coward._

 

Saruhiko took off his lightly dammed singlet with a disgusted look, even a bit of sweat made his eyebrow twitched a little. Sips of coffee was consumed, and Saruhiko’s eyes were focused on the training ground outside. A ray of red caught his attention. 4:15am, about time, as punctual as always. He could feel his heartbeat rose rapidly, and the blood cells were rushing in his bloodstream. His body missed _him_ , but not his mind.

 

Not at all, Saruhiko claimed. He had made up his mind one month ago, how pathetic it would be for him to still be lingering his mind around Misaki. They were enemies now, even in the same kingdom, even in the same army, even they were asked to cooperate with other teams, and it was not conflicting at all to hate someone.

 

The morning chills got Saruhiko off-guard through the window, sending a shiver down his spine. Too bad he didn’t have someone to put a blanket onto him anymore. That _someone_ was too being fooling around with his trusted teammates, too busy to think about the one who was _always_ , watching his back. Well, not always, as that once missed “always” caused Misaki a left eye.

 

_Look, how fragile you are Misaki. That one time I took my eyes off you for two seconds, and you repaid me with falling into my arms and a pile of blood. That one time I trusted your team and it caused me half of my world. That one time I missed and it resulted in consecutive nightmares with you, falling into the darkness, whenever I closed my eyes._

 

The scared tattoo on his collarbone started to ache, when he saw Misaki stopped his steps on the running trail. Saruhiko couldn’t do anything to stop the pain, it soothed only when he dug his fingernails into the wound and he could feel a bit of moisture on his fingertips. The same feeling when their eyes connected during the ceremony, and Misaki’s eye pierced through his body to tear his soul apart. The anger, the hatred, the disappointment … were consuming Saruhiko and got him addicted to.

 

That’s right, that’s what I was looking forward these whole time.

 

Saruhiko saw Misaki’s hand on the eyepatch. How pathetic, the infamous Homra vanguard Yata Misaki had to be absent from the frontline until fit. Not that he cared, Saruhiko muttered, he’d like to have less idiots screwing around with their strategy plans during missions. Homra is a group of aggressive marksman, who believes power and skills overrule the field. Only Lieutenant Kusanagi was able to plan and analyse the enemy before sending the soldiers out. No one followed the order, everyone fought in the front like their proud captain Suoh.

 

A message from the medication ward of the hospital popped up on Saruhiko’s PDA. --- Order delievered. Please send payments to …. Lame, but _necessary_. Saruhiko did not know why he was still doing this. It was not his fault, he thought, but the dryness on his lip wouldn’t lie.

 

_It was._

 

Saruhiko looked at his knife harness, suddenly the reason of becoming a hidden weapon user flashed back into his brain. The knives were laid out accordingly on the preparation bench, well-polished with a black shine.

 

_Saru, as you said, I’m a light-headed idiot fighting at the front. But you know, I am not afraid at all because I know my back is guarded by you._

Misaki stood up again, seemed like he was familiar with an eyepatch now. The sun rose up and drew a long shadow behind Misaki’s back. Misaki was a little giant standing his ground in the army. Saruhiko knew that. Misaki was capable in doing incredible things,

 

_Even without him._

* * *

 

 

 

“Kusanagi-san!” Misaki opened the door of Homra office after a nice shower and got dressed in his uniform neatly. Since then Misaki had been wearing his uniform properly, buttons all up, tie done as instructed. The day after Saruhiko left Homra, he felt like the bruise on his neck were still there, even he could barely see them.

 

“Oh Yata-chan, good morning!” Lieutenant Kusanagi greeted his fellow Chief, while putting document files back onto the shelves, “Your parcel arrived, second drawer down to your left.”

 

“Thanks,” Misaki picked up a glass from the cupboard, “Sorry for bothering you.” He walked to the water jar and poured himself some water. A few drops was spilled onto the vintage bench, “Oops, sorry, I will clean this up.”

 

Kusanagi handed Misaki a towl, “It’s fine, Yata-chan, I know it’s hard to adjust the distance with one eye.” Kusanagi looked up to Misaki, hiding his concern.

 

“Haha,” Misaki let out a carefree laughter, “It’s alright Kusanagi-san! I’m getting used to this, and I soon will be back onto the battlefield with Mikoto-san and the boys!” Misaki opened the medicine box, and tipped out a few tablets, “A few scratches won’t cause me anything! Take this as a trophy like a warrior aye?”

 

Kusanagi breathed out lightly, so light it felt like a sigh. He turned his face away from Misaki, continued with what he was doing, “I am not worrying about the physical side of it…” He whispered to himself, like he was afraid that Misaki would hear it.

 

Unfortunately the vanguard’s hearing ability was well-trained.

 

Misaki swallowed that tablets. Not only the tablets, but he felt like something bitter was also stuck on his throat. This is weird, they should be sugar-coated not bitter, he thought. The pain on his scar calmed down a bit like a tired screaming beast.

 

Everything will be alright, everything will be fine.

 

“Looks like I’m still in detention today,” Misaki cleaned his glass in the sink, and casually walked to the door, leaving the awkward silence behind, “I’m going to the shooting ground to do some training then.”

 

“Don’t take it too hard,” Kusanagi poured himself some freshly brewed tea, and sat down on his seat next to Suoh’s, “We all got your back.”

 

_I’ve got your back, Misa-_

A useless flashback.

 

_So do whatever you want, like a wild crow._

Traitor.


End file.
